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For some time now, I have been involved in an ongoing gonzo investigation of the fitness community. In order to fully grok this culture, attending the gymnasium has been a very real part of my life. Until now, I hadn’t been able to put into words what this society was all about, when someone went and did it for me — during a recent session, I overheard the following conversation. What you are about to read fully encapsulates a strange breed festooned with tribal tattoos, rage issues, and arid husks of what used to be testicles.

Man, borderline yelling, to his brother:

“YEAH, SORRY I WAS LATE BRO. I GOT HALFWAY HERE, THEN I WAS TRYING TO LOOK AT MY BICEPS WHILE I WAS SITTING AT A STOPLIGHT, AND NOTICED THAT MY SHIRT STILL HAD SLEEVES ON IT. SO I TURNED AROUND TO GO HOME SO I COULD CUT THEM OFF. I WALKED BY MY MIRROR AND SAW THAT MY HAIR COULD USE SOME MORE GEL, SO YOU KNOW, THERE’S TEN MINUTES RIGHT THERE. THEN, JUST TO BE SAFE, I SPRAYED ON ANOTHER COAT OF AXE WHILE SINGING ALONG TO SOME NICKELBACK TO WARM UP MY VOCAL CORDS FOR ALL THE SCREAMING I’M GOING TO DO DURING MY CURLS. HEY, COULD YOU HOLD ON A SEC, BRO? I GOTTA MAKE A PHONE CALL. (dials and begins talking) “HEY BRO, WHAT UP MAN, I’M AT THE GYM, CAN’T TALK, ABOUT TO GET MY CURL ON, CAN I CALL YOU LATER? WE’LL HIT UP HAPPY HOUR AND SLAM SOME MICHELOB ULTRAS. TIGHT. PEACE.” ANYWAYS, BRO, WHAT WAS I SAYING? HEY, WHO’S THAT IN THE CORNER WATCHING US? WHAT A HOMO. ANYWAYS, BRO, FEEL MY PECS. GETTING PRETTY BIG, RIGHT? CHICKS LOVE THAT. SPEAKING OF CHICKS, YOU SEE THAT LITTLE SQUISH OVER THERE? THAT’S MY GIRL, BRO. CHECK OUT THE DUMPER ON HER. NICE, RIGHT? HEY, BRO, QUIT LOOKING AT MY GIRL’S ASS, BRO! DIDN’T I JUST TELL YOU THAT WAS MY GIRL? DAMN, BRO, IF YOU EVER TOOK MY ADVICE YOU’D DOUBLE YOUR CREATINE INTAKE AND GET CUT UP LIKE ME AND MAYBE YOU’D HAVE YOUR OWN GIRL INSTEAD OF PEEPIN’ MINE ALL THE TIME. IT’S SICK BRO, I’M GETTIN’ MORE TRIM THAN A BARBERSHOP FLOOR OVER HERE. YO, BRO, BEFORE WE START THIS SET LET’S FLEX IN FRONT OF THIS MIRROR. UGGGHHH!!!! WHAT’S THAT BRO? I HAVEN’T HEARD A THING YOU’VE SAID. I’D TAKE MY EARBUDS OUT, BUT THIS NEW PITBULL ALBUM IS TOO DOPE.”

The conversation went on for some time after that, but there wasn’t much to be learned from it. Conclusion — I immersed myself in the culture, and emerged on the other side with my gonads the same size as when I began, which is not something every blue-blooded gym patron can say.

“As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light of meaning in the darkness of mere being.”

– Carl Jung

Ah yes, the meaning of life. Who knows what it is, but I can tell you this with near certainty — a hefty portion of the equation involves food, for without it we would perish. And if there is food to be ingested, it may as well taste good. So, make a dash to the store and pick up:

-Sweet potatoes

-Beans (buyer’s choice, I use black or pinto)

-Garlic powder

-Cheese (buyer’s choice)

Instructions:

Soften the sweet potatoes by boil. Put them in a bowl and add in beans and garlic powder. Mash it all together. Spread it over a plate and cover with cheese. Microwave until the cheese melts. Eat it. I used generic Triscuits to dip with. I also doused it with chicken wing sauce that I got at the Dollar Tree.

Here’s the Blong (Blog Song) of the day. Widespread Panic with Ain’t Life Grand.